An island is the home to these gangly looking trees. An ugly mess to some, but beautiful to me. Their roots sunk deep into the earth, sipping water every day. Free to grow in all directions creating this display. They've stood the test of time, with flood and wind and storm. They've been shed bare in winter, and in spring they've been reborn. Drawing all their nourishment from the river they call home, They've become a sanctuary, a refuge all their own. Shade for weary visitors, shelter from the sky. Their branches shield from predators, providing ample place to hide. Trunks have made a fortress, surrounding lapping shores; To sit and watch the world outside, till minds becomes restored. I never would've found this place, had I not explored, The island full of tree's with my kayak and my oar. These trees are an example of how God wants us to be Planted by His living water, sipping continually. Then we too will grow in righteousness and strength Proving a place ...